


Sharp Teeth

by Jaiden_S



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alpha/Omega, Angst and Humor, Awkward Romance, Bottom Bucky, Drama & Romance, M/M, Starbucks, Stucky - Freeform, Stucky fic, Top Steve, stucky fluff, stucky smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 09:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16426757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaiden_S/pseuds/Jaiden_S
Summary: Steve is on edge. Bucky’s been running for the better part of a year, and he’s no closer to finding him than he was six months ago. Between the stress of hunting down his best friend and the constant banter of his teammates, he’s ready to snap. And that was before a familiar heady scent of pheromones sent his pulse racing and his body into overdrive. Suddenly, he’s in a race against time to find both Bucky and the source of the pheromones that are threatening to unmake him.





	Sharp Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> Accompanying Fan works:  
> Fanworker Name: Sandy79  
> Rating: G  
> Link: https://images2.imgbox.com/bb/78/cpnn24An_o.jpg  
> Ao3 Link: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/16447058>
> 
> Fanworker Name: Emmatheslayer  
> Rating: G  
> Link: https://ic.pics.livejournal.com/emmatheslayer/72425844/3147498/3147498_original.jpg 
> 
> Author’s Notes: Set in NYC just after CA: Winter Soldier, but before CA: Civil War. Alpha/Omega dynamic, but with NO MPREG and no dubcon. Most of the action takes place either in downtown NYC or in Stark Towers.

Some days are better than others. Some days file your nerves down to raw edges and make it damned near impossible to keep from fraying apart. That’s true for everyone, but it’s especially true when you live your life in the public eye. Cameras document every move you make, every personal interaction, every little thing that most folks take for granted. You can’t slip up. You can’t speak tersely to a TSA agent whose pat-down at La Guardia might be just a bit too friendly. You can’t brush past an autograph seeker outside your hotel lobby simply because you’re having a bad day and he might sell it on e-Bay. You can’t yell at a driver for nearly running you down in a crosswalk. You have to smile, have to wave, have to be on your best behavior even when you feel like you’re barely hanging on.

Surely in a firefight, with all hell breaking loose around you and the world shattering to pieces, temperamental behavior can be excused. Unless, of course, you’re Captain America.

“I’m dying up here, Cap!” Sam yelled down from where he hovered in mid-air over a partially hidden bunker in upstate New York. A ground missile screamed overhead, streaking the blue sky right above him with an angry slash of white smoke. The wings on his EXO-7 Falcon shivered from the vibrations. “They’re returning fire!”

“I’m not blind!” Steve ducked behind his shield as debris from the rocket’s impact exploded around him. The tree line wasn’t providing much cover. They needed to move.

“Then let me take these assholes out!”

“Hang on!” Steve touched his earpiece. “Nat!? Any sign of him on the inside?”

“Negative.” Natasha’s voice crackled through their secure connection. “Just a skeleton crew of agents, and I have them locked down.” She tightened her grip on her semi-automatic rifle and smiled darkly at the three men slumped in front of her. “Isn’t that right, boys?”

“Clint? How’s the north side of the bunker look?”

A very loud explosion followed a few seconds of tense silence. “What north side?” A crash sounded as what was left of an exterior wall crumbled to the ground. 

“Dammit, Clint! I told you to leave it intact!” barked Steve. His nostrils flared. 

“Sorry, Cap! I thought-” Clint began before he was abruptly cut off.

“Forget it!” Steve clenched his jaw. It didn’t matter. Bucky Barnes wasn’t here anymore, if he ever had been. “Sam, take the rest of them out!”

“About damned time.” Sam peppered the few straggling Hydra agents with bullets, dropping them before they could reach the shelter of the surrounding forest, and took out the missile launcher with a few blasts from his Redwing drone.

Steve stalked toward the entrance of the bunker, shield up, and kicked in the front door, sending it flying off the hinges and onto the concrete floor inside with a clatter. The room was big and solid, made of reinforced concrete and steel and seemed sturdy, except for the wall Clint had just reduced to rubble. Steve inhaled deeply. Stale and moldy. Dust and ash from the explosion floated in the air around him. Bitter disappointment rose in Steve’s throat, along with a fresh surge of raw anger. Yet another fruitless mission, and Clint had ruined any chance they had of finding physical clues Hydra might have left behind. The sound of one of Stark’s choppers roared overhead, ready to round up what was left of the Hydra agents. “There’s nothing here. Let’s head out.”

Natasha met Steve at the door, her three captives cuffed and submissive. “Was yelling at Clint really necessary?” she asked. 

“When I give an order, I expect it to be followed. Period,” Steve barked. “No questions asked, no deviating from the plan.”

“Look, I know how much Bucky means to you, but-”

Steve cut her off with a jerk of his head. “Get those men to the chopper. Now.”

Natasha pursed her lips and tipped her chin up. “Yes, sir.”

~*~

It felt like Steve had been looking for Bucky forever, but the search began in earnest only a few months earlier. Sam Wilson had quickly agreed to help Steve with the search, but two people with limited resources weren’t enough. Steve approached Fury first about leading a team to find Bucky and the answer had been a swift and emphatic _no_. 

“Why not? He’s at the top of the Most Wanted list for nearly every government, worldwide. We capture him, bring him in, keep him out of Hydra’s hands. You can claim all the credit. It’s a win-win situation.”

Fury stood and leaned across the long table in the underground SHIELD bunker, palms pressed flat on the smooth top. “SHIELD isn’t in the position to do anything right now. Technically, we don’t exist and I’m dead. Add that to the fact that we blew up DC a couple of months ago and we’re not exactly in good standing.”

“Just let me have a team. I’ll take full responsibility,” Steve argued, his jaw clenching as he spoke. 

“Who’s gonna pay for it, Steve? The sort of tactical weapons you’d need to bring down the Winter Soldier don’t come cheap.”

“I don’t want to bring him down. I want to bring him in.” Steve looked away, his eyes taking in the large screen display of Hydra bases Fury had identified. “Give me a team and the intelligence on Hydra. I’ll figure out how to pay for it.”

“You mean you’re gonna ask Stark.” Fury’s lips lifted into an ironic smirk. “He’s got his own agenda that may or may not be compatible with yours.”

“I know that.”

“And he’s probably not going to be real excited about helping you bring in an assassin.”

“I know that, too.” Steve’s eyes locked onto Fury’s.

Fury stared back at Steve for a long, uncomfortable moment. “Alright. Agents Barton and Romanoff are yours. Try not to bring down another Helicarrier.”

~*~

Convincing Tony Stark to fund his search-and-recover operation proved to be no easy task, either. 

“Why should I help you find a brainwashed assassin who was probably the second shooter on the grassy knoll? He’s crazy, and not in the fun, drunken sorority girl at a band party kind of way.” Tony hunched over his laptop and typed in a series of commands that caused a large robotic drone in his workshop to light up like an alien spaceship. 

“Wouldn’t you rather have him close by where we can keep an eye on him?” Steve’s brow creased deeply. “The longer he’s loose, the more of a danger he is to both himself and everyone else.”

“No argument there, but why do I have to be the one to fund your buddy road trip?”

“Because you’re the only option I have left,” admitted Steve. 

“I feel so wanted.” Tony hit one last button and the drone rose upward for a second or two, then crashed back down to the concrete. “Huh. Needs more thrust.”

“Tony…please?”

Tony typed in another series of commands, then peered at Steve over the top of the laptop screen. “If I agree to pay for your off-ship travel excursion, there are some stipulations. First, you have to bring him back here. No arguments. Non-negotiable. Second, any and all Hydra technology that is discovered in or on him automatically becomes property of Stark Industries. Understood?”

Steve nodded. “Understood.” He offered his hand. “Thanks, Tony. I owe you.”

Tony gave it a quick shake. “Oh, and third, Pepper’s niece has a birthday party coming up. I expect full Captain America this time, not just jeans and the shield.”

Steve sighed and turned to leave. “Yeah, okay.”

“Hey, Steve?”

“What?” He stopped and looked back, hoping the impatience he felt wasn’t written all over his face.

“Is he worth it? You do realize he may kill you in your sleep.”

Steve exhaled slowly. “Yeah, Tony, he is. He’s worth everything.”

~*~

Steve raked his hand through his hair and scanned the small diner one more time. He was on edge, every nerve in his body strung tightly and thrumming. His foot tapped restlessly under the table. Normally, he could relax once a mission was complete, put it out of his mind to worry over the next morning, but not tonight. He was one more sarcastic remark away from snapping.

After he and the team had returned to Stark Towers in Manhattan, showered and changed, Sam had suggested they check out a nearby diner. Nobody wanted to cook and pizza sounded awful to everyone other than Clint.

“What do you think?” asked Sam. He peered at Steve over the top of his menu that he’d been studying for the past five minutes. “Meatloaf or fried chicken? I’ve heard good things about the spaghetti, too.”

Clint pointed to the back of the menu. “One word: pie.”

“Do you eat anything that doesn’t come in a slice?” Natasha nudged him with her elbow.

“Not if I can help it.”

“So, which one? Meatloaf or fried chicken?” asked Sam again.

“Meatloaf comes in a slice,” Clint helpfully noted.

“Just pick something,” snapped Steve before he caught himself. 

Sam rolled his eyes, folded his menu and dropped it on the table between them. “What is going on with you? You’ve been pissy all day. No, scratch that. All week.”

Steve grimaced. “Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“I know you do, man, but if Bucky’s out there, we’ll find him.” Sam tried to look reassuring. 

“Yeah.” Steve forced a little smile. 

Clint pushed his menu to the side and leaned his elbows on the table. “Have you ever noticed that when anyone mentions Bucky, Steve’s eyes get all faraway and dreamy? Sort of like when Nat talks about taking someone down using dental floss or buying a new firearm. Gets her all swooney.”

“I’m not swooney. He’s my best friend,” Steve said, irritation lacing his tone.

“Best friend? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

Natasha pinched Clint on the underside of his arm. 

“OW! What was that for?” Clint glared at her and rubbed at the mark that was beginning to bruise.

“For being an insensitive shithead.”

Fortunately, it was easy to tune out their familiar banter. Steve slumped forward and rested his chin on his hand. Bucky. It always seemed to come back to him, and it was easy to use him as a scapegoat on which to blame all of Steve’s issues from insomnia to his foul mood to his inability to concentrate on anything for more than five minutes at a stretch. But Steve knew it wasn’t Bucky that had him ready to crawl out of his own skin. Or, at least, it wasn’t _just_ Bucky.

Steve inhaled deeply and held his breath. There it was, that faint scent in the moist May air, deceptively cloying and sweet until it bared sharp teeth and bit into him. It clawed up his spine, digging into his skin, breathing hard on the nape of his neck. He had to get out of there. Now.

“I gotta go.” Steve scooted out of his chair, tossed a couple of dollars on the table to cover the soda he’d ordered and pushed out the front door. It was worse out there, though, the scent. So oppressive that even inhaling a full breath was a struggle. 

“Wait, hang on, Steve! We just got here,” called Sam as he scrambled out behind him, cuffing Clint on the back of the head as he passed by. “Way to go, asshole.”

“What’d I do?” asked Clint as he rubbed his head in bewilderment. Nat just rolled her eyes.

Steve stopped on the sidewalk and turned to face Sam. “You all stay. I can’t do this tonight. I’m headed back to Stark Tower.” 

“Hey, if it’s about Clint, he didn’t mean anything. Teasing is his way of trying to lighten the mood.”

“No, it’s not that. Clint’s fine. I just need to be by myself.”

“Okay. I’ll catch up with you later.” Sam gave him an all too familiar look that hovered somewhere between pity and concern. 

Steve simply nodded, grateful that Sam let him go without an argument. If he could just make it back to Stark Tower without biting anyone’s head off, he’d be happy.

He’d arrived in Manhattan just over two months ago, right before they started searching for Bucky in earnest. The scent didn’t find him until a couple of weeks later. At first, it was just a whiff of something vague and indescribable that sent Steve’s heart racing, much like the effect a lingering trace of Peggy’s familiar Chanel No. 5 had on him. Sometimes he’d pass a random woman on the street wearing that signature scent, and the faintest whiff would whip his head around and crush his heart all over again, but this scent was different. It was tied less to a specific memory or person and more to a purely primal urge. And now it was growing stronger.

Even before the scent had caught him, he’d regretted coming back to New York. It wasn’t home anymore, hadn’t been for a long time, but all the leads for Bucky in Washington, D.C. had grown cold and he’d gone stir-crazy in his downtown loft. Moving temporarily into Stark Tower seemed like the right decision at the time. He hadn’t counted on the insomnia, the panic attacks, the sense of utter uselessness and now this unrelenting scent sending him half out of his mind. 

He kept his head down and walked briskly along the bustling sidewalk, hunching his shoulders forward to appear smaller. Thankfully, the scent dissipated into the haze of car exhaust, smog and cigarettes as he drew closer to the center of downtown. By the time he got in view of the Tower, he felt more like himself and less like a rabid dog ready to tear someone apart. Ironically, that was about the same time the truth of the matter sank its teeth into him. Of course. That scent. He knew it. Somebody was in heat. It was an overload of pheromones sending him over the edge.

Steve strode through the lobby, ducked into the elevator and leaned against the rear of it, letting his head rest on the cool metal as his mind swam. He hadn’t smelled the heady overload of Omega pheromones since he’d come out of the ice a few years prior. That’s why he hadn’t recognized it right away. Full-blown heat wasn’t common back in the 1940’s, and was nearly unheard of now outside of sex workers and fetish shows. Most Omegas chose to take scent blockers or have the glands removed entirely, and without a trigger in puberty, most Alpha genes remained dormant. The few Alphas left were required to register with their local department of health, both for records keeping and for the safety of others.

So, there he was, panting in the elevator, one of the last true Alphas. Yet another way Steve Rogers was a man out of time.

~*~

Dinner turned out to be a half-gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream and a spoon, which was good enough for Steve. He settled onto the sofa in his 12th floor flat and flipped the TV channels until he found a baseball game. Just what he needed. Mindless entertainment.

Somewhere around the 8th inning, Natasha materialized on the sofa next to him. He hadn’t noticed when exactly she appeared; she had a way of simply turning up. Spies were like that.

“You here to read me the riot act?” Steve asked, not bothering to look away from the TV screen.

“Nope.” Natasha crossed her arms over her chest. “If you want to shit on all your friends and hole up here by yourself, that’s on you.”

Steve grunted and dug his spoon into the soupy remains of melted ice cream.

Natasha cut her eyes at him. “I know you’re frustrated. Bucky means a lot to you.”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to be totally alone? To wake up and discover everyone and everything you loved was gone? No friends, no family. Nothing.” 

“You know that I do,” Natasha quietly replied.

“Then you know I can’t stop until I find him. He’s all I have left. My best friend.” Steve glanced over at Natasha. “And he needs me. I can get through to him, I know I can.” 

“I get it, but the answer isn’t to take it out on us.”

Steve’s expression hardened. “It’s my job to be a leader,” he stated, reaching for the remote to put the game on mute.

“Leading doesn’t mean bellowing orders and treating us like we’re just another nameless group soldiers. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were shifting into Alpha behavior.”

Steve flinched almost imperceptibly. _Almost._

Natasha’s eyes widened and she shifted on the sofa, curling a leg up under her. “Holy shit. I was joking, but I’m right, aren’t I? You _are_ presenting as an Alpha.”

Steve shrugged and put the empty ice cream bucket on the coffee table.

“Since when are you an Alpha?”

“Since always, though I didn’t exhibit any signs until after the serum.” He stared at the flickering TV screen. “Too skinny to have much of a puberty, so the Alpha part of me remained dormant. The serum, though, enhanced everything about me, including that.”

“Damn. I had no idea,” replied Natasha with a note of awe in her tone. Not much slipped by her, but Alpha Steve certainly had. She wondered what else she had missed.

“Most people don’t, and with all of the pharmaceutical options available to Omegas nowadays, it usually isn’t a problem. I’ve always been able to lock my impulses down, keep my personal crap under control, but this time I’m really struggling.”

“Someone’s going through heat?” Natasha guessed. 

Steve sighed and glanced up at her. “It’s a little early, but, yeah. Someone is in the beginning stages of her cycle.” His hands twisted together in his lap. “It’s all I can do not to put on my shoes right now and go hunt her down.”

Natasha smirked. “Smells that good, huh?”

“You can’t even imagine.” 

“What would happen if you did? Find them, I mean.”

A slow, deep blush colored Steve’s face. “What do you think? Try everything in my power to convince her to mate with me.”

Nat chuckled softly. “That doesn’t sound so bad. When’s the last time you got laid? 1943?”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “I’m not a virgin, Nat.”

“Still, though. I’d say you’re overdue.”

“Mating is more than just sex. It’s feral and wild and dangerous, especially if the Alpha loses control. I can’t afford to put myself in that position. As strong as I am, I could kill someone.”

“Then, you gotta suck it up, big guy.” Natasha laid her hand on his knee and squeezed. 

“I’m trying, but it’s hard…You won’t tell anyone, will you? It can be our secret.” Steve’s blue eyes pleaded with her to stay quiet.

“I won’t,” Nat replied, “but you should. Bruce can help. He knows a thing or two about impulses that are hard to control.”

~*~

Like the rest of the Avengers, Bruce Banner had a small flat in Stark Tower, complete with a lab in the basement and a safe room in case the big guy decided to pay an unexpected visit. 

“So, an Alpha,” said Bruce, bright and early the next morning. “Wow.”

“Wow, pretty much sums it up.” Steve hopped up on the examination table and let his feet dangle over the end of it. “Not too many of us roaming around anymore.”

“More than you’d think,” countered Bruce. He eased a needle into the vein in the crook of Steve’s arm and drew a vial of blood. “Lots of recessive genes floating around out there that are just looking for a trigger.”

Steve snorted. “With the pheromones the Omega’s throwing off, half the adolescents in Manhattan will be triggered by the end of the week.”

“That, actually, is disturbing. Teenage boys are horny enough without adding a female in heat into the equation.” Bruce slapped a Band-aid over the injection site. “Give me about 24 hours and I’ll have something that will help. Something that’ll take the edge off until the Omega’s captured. But for right now, I’m going to give you a basic human inhibitor.” He pulled a syringe out of a sterile package and administered the shot in Steve’s left shoulder. “Should buy you a day or two.”

“Captured?” Steve’s eyebrows rose. “Seriously?” He rubbed at the stick mark on his upper arm.

“Unchecked heat is considered a major threat to public health. Like you said, it can trigger a lot of dormant Alphas.”

Steve blinked. “I was only kidding.” 

“But I’m not,” Bruce replied earnestly. “Manhattan’s crazy enough already without a pack of newly-triggered Alphas on the prowl. The Center for Disease Control has a team on its way up from Atlanta as we speak.”

“Oh.” Steve felt awful. The CDC meant business. Nobody deserved to be rounded up like a criminal. 

“She’s probably a street kid off her meds who didn’t know she was so close to heat and has nowhere to go. We’ll help her. I promise.” Bruce reassured Steve with a pat to his shoulder. 

 

~*~

“Bucky? Bucky!” Steve called out to the hazy image that darted across the grassy field in front of him. The figure glanced over his shoulder, but kept running. Steve gritted his teeth and gave chase. “Wait!”

The gently rolling hillside melted into a suddenly dense forest, thick with underbrush and thorns. Steve plunged ahead, eyes locked on the black-clad man ahead of him. With every step, Steve gained on him until he was close enough to grab hold of a Kevlar sleeved arm. 

“Bucky?” asked Steve. Hope pricked his eyes and caused the vision in front of him to blur and swirl.

But when the man turned his head, it wasn’t Bucky. Dark, hollow eyes stared back at him, unfamiliar. Steve let him go.

The scene faded to black. 

Steve awoke with a start, flushed and sweating in a tangle of sheets and blankets. He blinked, then dragged the back of his hand over his eyes. A dream. Always the same. Tracking after Bucky, running as hard as he could only to realize the man was someone else. They’d become more vivid since he moved back to New York. Maybe it was a product of new surroundings, or maybe fate decided to torture him in a brand new way, as if the constant scent of heat wasn’t torture enough. He inhaled deeply, bracing himself for the inevitable rush of desire. Nothing. Not even a trace of the scent. The Alpha inhibitor must be working.

For the past few days, he’d awakened in a state of arousal, his body shivering and burning at the same time, tingling with urgency. It wanted to mate, and Steve had found it harder and harder to deny the craving that had sunk all the way to his bones. He’d take himself in hand, and with a few quick strokes, ease his misery, but a stiff breeze would have him hard and desperate again. Today, for the first time in ages, he felt normal, more like his old self. Blessed relief in the form of a shot. 

The cell phone on the nightstand buzzed to life. _Sam._ Steve grabbed it and swiped his finger. “Yeah?”

“We found him. We found Bucky.”

“What?!” Steve sat bolt upright in his bed.

“Facial recognition software produced a positive ID of a guy in a convenience store in Hell’s Kitchen. I’ve sent the Redwing drone to scout him out. Suit up and meet us downstairs in ten.”

Steve was downstairs in five, suit on, shield strapped to his back. “Where is he now?”

Sam tapped his phone and pointed to a blinking red dot on the city map. “According to Redwing, he’s a few blocks from the river, squatting in an abandoned building.” 

“Right. I’ll run point. Sam, take the right flank, Clint, the left. Nat, you’re with me.” Steve looked each one of them in the eye. “This is the best chance we’ve had so far of bringing him in. No mistakes. No room for error.”

“You got it, Cap,” nodded Clint. He extended his bow to full size with a shift of his arm and pushed his way out the door.

The team sprinted through the early morning mist to the west side of the city, dodging early morning traffic and scattered pedestrians until they reached a series of warehouses near the Hudson River. Gentrification of the area meant that many warehouses were being converted to businesses or loft apartments, but these still sat like rusted relics on the side of the river.

Sam gripped Steve’s arm and pointed to the last one on the left. “That one. A strong heat signal is coming from the back rear corner. Gotta be him.”

Steve was running on adrenaline and half a cup of coffee, nerves tingling with anticipation. “I’m going in.”

As Clint and Sam broke to cover the flanks, Steve charged straight ahead, barreling his way through a locked chain-link fence that surrounded the building. A sharp blow to the lock securing the main door from his vibranium shield sent the whole thing flying. Steve kicked the door open and burst inside.

A rush of pheromones blew past him, a sweet, heady aroma that literally drove him to his knees. The Omega was very close; she had to be to affect him this strongly. He coughed hard, hunched over and dropped his shield, which fell to the floor with a clatter. His world dipped and swayed like a storm-ravaged sea. A wave of ragged desire and raw need slammed into him, through him, drowning him in it. He gasped for breath, one last push to keep from sliding under and giving in to his baser instincts. 

A sharp jab to the side of his neck jolted him back into the here and now. Steve’s head snapped around to see Natasha standing next to him gripping an epi-pen. “Nat? What the hell?!” He rubbed at his neck furiously.

“Bruce gave it to me in case of an emergency.” She stared down at him. “Looks like an emergency to me.”

Steve couldn’t argue. He inhaled deeply through his nose and…nothing. Not even the faintest whiff of pheromones. Cautiously, he inhaled again, and again, and smelled only the glorious scent of musty, stale air. He climbed to his feet. “Thanks. I owe you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We still have to bring Bucky in, and I’d lay odds that he won’t come quietly.” Natasha jerked her chin in the direction of the rear storeroom. “Let’s go, soldier.”

With every step, Steve felt better, more like his old self. He jogged ahead of Natasha to assume the point position again. When they reached the storeroom door, Steve touched his earpiece. “We’re in position,” he said quietly. “On my mark. Three…two…one…now.”

As Steve and Natasha charged the main entrance, Clint crashed through a window on the west side and Sam landed on the roof with a loud thunk. 

The room was square and dank, with a low ceiling and empty packing crates scattered about haphazardly. A pile of blankets lay to one side, covered with food wrappers and empty soda cans.

“Bucky? Bucky, it’s Steve. Steve Rogers, your friend. I’m here to help.” Steve walked slowly to the center of the room, eyes scanning every shadowy corner for movement. 

A guttural growl sounded from across the room, raspy and strained, but achingly familiar. 

“Hey, buddy. I’m here.” Steve turned toward the sound of the voice. 

Bucky crouched next to a wooden storage crate, muscles tensed, eyes wild and dark, face pale and feverish in the shadows. “You shouldn’t have come here, Steve,” he warned, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt lower over his eyes.

Steve moved slowly, cautiously toward him, palms up where Bucky could see them. “We just want to bring you back with us, take you somewhere safe.”

Bucky lunged forward with startling quickness and caught Steve by the throat. “Leave me alone. Walk away now and forget you ever saw me. I’m dangerous.”

Steve’s hands scrabbled against the metal fingers wrapped around his neck. “Bucky!” he wheezed. “You’re not dangerous. You’re my friend.”

An arrow pierced the skin just above Bucky’s collar and he slumped heavily to the floor. 

Steve watched in horror as Bucky fell, then flung a wild gaze in Clint’s direction. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Bringing him in.” Clint grabbed Bucky under the armpits. “It’s a tranquilizer tip, Steve. Relax.”

All Steve could do was stand and watch as Clint hauled Bucky out of the warehouse.

~*~

Sam flew an unconscious Bucky back to Stark Tower on the EXO-7 ahead of the rest of the team. By the time Steve arrived back at the tower, Bucky was safely ensconced in Bruce’s basement lab.

“How is he?” asked Steve after pacing the hallway outside the examination room for the better part of an hour.

“Kind of a mess,” said Bruce. “I’ll need to do a more thorough exam, but he’s a grab-bag of lacerations, sprains, and malnutrition, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder most likely. He’s sedated but lucid, if you want to go see him.”

“But he’ll be okay.” Steve searched Bruce’s eyes, silently pleading for an affirmative answer.

“Probably. Eventually.”

“Great. I’ll set up the second bedroom in my flat and get everything ready for him.”

Bruce put his hand on Steve’s bicep. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? The epi-pen seems to have worked, because you’re not in there dry-humping his leg, but I’m not sure long-term exposure would be a good idea.”

Steve blinked. “Huh?”

“Oh, geez.” Bruce rubbed temple with his fingertips. “I thought you knew.” He glanced over to where Bucky’s file lay, then looked back up at Steve. “The Omega you’ve been smelling all over the city? It’s Bucky, and he’s on the verge of heat.”

Steve’s jaw dropped and dangled for a moment before his brain registered the ability to snap it shut. “No. Bucky’s not an Omega. I grew up with him, and he’s never presented as one. I know that for a solid fact.” 

“Well, blame Hydra because he’s one now. I injected him with some Omega blockers, enough to last a regular person a month. With his enhanced metabolism, though, I’m not sure how long it will last…a week if we’re lucky. Possibly a little longer. And the Alpha blockers I gave you will wear off sooner rather than later so we’re working on a short time frame.”

“I don’t understand,” Steve frowned. “Bucky’s male. How can he be an Omega?”

“I’m not sure I get it either, not without a full examination, but there you go. Hydra is capable of all sorts of things.”

“Okay.” Steve ran a hand through his hair and tried to wrap his brain around the fact that his best friend was an Omega. “So, what are his options?”

“Probably not pharmaceutical ones, at least not long-term. It would be the law of diminishing returns. Because of his unique metabolism, his body will build a resistance to the drugs, and eventually they’ll stop working. So, that leaves surgery or finding him a mate.” Bruce cocked his head. “You wouldn’t happen to know any unmated Alphas in the city, would you?”

Steve blinked as Bruce’s comment slowly sank in. “You mean me? No. Absolutely not.” A sudden flush of embarrassment raced up his neck and colored him all the way to the tips of his ears. “He’s my best friend. I can’t mate with him.”

“Then, surgical removal of the glands are probably the best option. Once he’s fully awake, we need to discuss it with him. For now, I think the drugs can stave off his heat.”

Bucky was in heat…or was about to be, anyway. Steve swallowed. It was a lot to take in. “Okay,” he managed. “Can I see him?”

“Sure. Just through those doors. He’s been asking about you.”

The room was small and sterile, with stark white walls and tiled floors and crisp sheets on the small bed where Bucky lay dozing. He looked worn and gaunt, cheeks sunken and shadows under his eyes. Steve’s heart rose in his throat. 

“Bucky,” he said softly, laying his hand on his friend’s arm.

Hearing his name, Bucky’s eyes fluttered open. “Steve?” It took his blue eyes a minute to focus. 

“Yeah, buddy. It’s me. We’re in Stark Tower. Dr. Banner is taking care of you.”

Bucky grunted softly. “How long do I have to stay here? I don’t like labs.”

Steve gently squeezed Bucky’s arm. “I’m moving you up to my flat as soon as you’re able to get up. Housekeeping is changing the sheets in the second bedroom right now. We’ll be roommates, just like old times.”

Bucky’s face clouded. “Bad idea. You should have let me go. I have these memories, these impulses I can’t control. I’m dangerous.”

Steve gripped Bucky’s shoulder firmly. “So am I, and I can handle anything you throw at me. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m not a 95 pound weakling anymore.” He loosened his grip after a moment and gave Bucky’s shoulder a pat. “As for the memories, we’ll handle those, too. Therapy, whatever you need, you’ll have.”

Bucky eyed the fingers latched onto his shoulder and sighed. “I guess there’s no talking you out of it, is there?”

“Nope.”

“Do you still snore like a freight train?” 

Steve huffed out a surprised laugh. “Probably, but you’ll have your own bedroom.”

“And earplugs, I hope. I’ll need lots of them.” Bucky offered up a weak smile.

“Whatever you want, Buck.” 

Maybe it wouldn’t be exactly like old times, but Steve was encouraged.

~*~

Later that day, Steve moved Bucky into his spare bedroom. The sheets on the bed belonged to Pepper Potts, baby blue with little white flowers, but they were clean and soft and Bucky didn’t complain. He didn’t do much of anything other than sleep for most of the afternoon anyway. 

Later that evening, he sat on his bed, back against the headboard, knees pulled up to his chest, eyes unfocused, a hollowed-out shell of a man. Steve’s heart wrenched. He missed his friend, the feisty, snarky, mouthy jerk who he’d grown up teasing. The one with fire in his eyes and an open heart and a wide smile for everyone. That Bucky was gone, likely forever. Whoever this new Bucky was or would be eventually…well, that was yet to be determined, but he was still Bucky. His best friend. He’d love him in whatever shape he took.

Steve lightly tapped his knuckles on the open bedroom door and lingered in the doorway. “You awake?”

Bucky glanced at Steve for a fraction of a moment, then let his eyes drift back to the window. “Why am I here, Steve?”

“Because I want you to be here. Because I need you to be here. Because you need me, too.” Steve pushed off of the doorframe and walked to the window, forcing Bucky to look at him. “You’re the only real friend I have. Same for you. We’re a pair. Always have been. Together ’til the end of the line.” 

Bucky shook his head, a strand of long hair falling into his eyes, and he smiled, tight-lipped and sardonic. “I’m broken, inside and out, and I don’t know if I can be fixed.”

“You don’t need fixing. You just need to heal and find out who you are again. It’ll happen. Slowly. One day at a time.” Steve’s jaw clinched in determination. Nobody and nothing was ever going to hurt Bucky again. If he had to, he’d take a truckload of Alpha blockers every day for the rest of his life and stand guard outside Bucky’s door to keep him safe.

“All I know is fighting and fists and guns. I’m a weapon. I’m not sure I know how to be a man anymore.”

Steve’s eyes flashed with emotion. “You’re Bucky and you’re my friend. Nothing else. Okay?”

Bucky nodded, but looked away.

“It’s supper time. I made soup,” Steve offered.

“Wait, you cooked?” Bucky’s eyes darted back to Steve.

“Sort of,” Steve began, then sheepishly admitted, “Actually, I opened a can.”

“Okay, I’ll have some. Not even you can ruin canned soup.”

Steve’s heart did a little flip. “Great. I’ll heat it up.”

~*~

It was a start, slow but better than nothing. Bucky’s mood swung wildly from not wanting to be near anyone to not wanting Steve out of his sight, finally settling on the latter. He hung close to Steve, following him from room-to-room like a lost puppy, never wanting to be too far away.

Steve took it in stride, even making it seem like the whole closeness thing was his idea. As Bucky hovered uncertainly in the doorway of the master bedroom a few mornings later, Steve pointed at a mound of clean laundry on top of the bed. “Sure could use some help folding, if you don’t mind.”

A look of pure relief washed over Bucky and he took his place next to Steve, grabbing a clean t-shirt and folding it into a neat rectangle. “Nah, it’s the least I can do, with you letting me stay here, and all.”

“Does this remind you of anything?” Steve gently prodded.

Bucky paused, shirt in hand, and hummed to himself. “Yeah. Ma would give us each a penny if we’d take the laundry off the line, fold it and put it away. We’d buy a candy bar from the corner store and share it once we’d finished.” He cut a sideways glance over at Steve. “You never could fold fitted sheets.”

Steve laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Still can’t. Good thing I have you here.”

“I am good for something after all. Who knew?”

“You’re good for lots of things,” Steve said quietly.

“Folding sheets and what else?” Bucky smoothed the top of a t-shirt and set it aside, reaching for another one.

“Telling me when I’m full of crap.”

“Well, there’s that.”

Steve snorted softly. “I always got the unvarnished truth from you, whether I wanted it or not.”

“That’s ’cause I remember when you were a mouthy runt instead of Captain America.” Bucky nudged Steve with his shoulder as he added another folded shirt to the pile.

“Mouthy? That’s rich coming from you. You considered swearing an art form.”

“I’m not the one whose mouth wrote checks his fists couldn’t cash. I think I still have scars on my knuckles from bailing you and your mouth out of trouble. And for the record, you were the reason I took up swearing, you little shit.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said with a fond roll of his eyes. “Just fold.”

~*~

For supper, Steve decided to try cooking, something he hated but Bucky used to love. Spaghetti seemed easy enough according the recipe he’d found on Google. Boil the pasta, brown some ground beef, peel some tomatoes and stew them down. Season to taste with some garlic and parmesan cheese. How hard could it be?

Once he started banging around in the kitchen with pots and pans, Bucky appeared right beside him, wary of whatever it was Steve might be attempting. “Maybe I should make dinner. I don’t want us to die from food poisoning.”

Steve elbowed Bucky in the ribs. “Jerk. I’d ask you to cut up the veggies, but I’m not sure I trust you with a knife.”

Bucky lowered his shoulder and shoved it into Steve’s back. “Punk. You’re the one who almost sliced off his pinky, not me.”

“You make one mistake on a tomato and suddenly everyone panics.”

Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand and turned it over to reveal a long white scar on the underside of his finger. “You sliced it down to the bone, Steve. I think that’s reason enough to panic. Plus, I couldn’t tell the blood from the tomato sauce. We had to throw out the whole batch and start over.”

“Added protein is all.” Steve dumped the pasta into the boiling water and handed the tomatoes to Bucky. “Wash those and I’ll peel them.”

“Really? I think I can handle peeling a tomato without wanting to stab you.” Bucky ran the fruit under cool water and rubbed it gently.

“Baby steps,” Steve said. “Give me those and you brown the ground beef. I know I can trust you with a plastic spatula.”

“You sure? I once took down a man with a ballpoint pen.”

“Just tend to the meat.”

The way they teased each other, the way they fell into a familiar rhythm of back and forth banter felt painfully familiar. Steve’s heart lurched between joy over finding his friend and despair over what had happened to him. It was bittersweet.

~*~

The following afternoon, just as the sun rose to its zenith, Bucky shuffled into the den where Steve lay sprawled on the sofa and nudged Steve’s leg with his foot. “Move over, will ya?”

“Always so demanding.” Steve grinned and scooted over enough to let Bucky sit down.

Bucky dropped down onto the overstuffed cushion. “I need to apologize about before, in the warehouse. Ever since I escaped from Hydra, my mind’s been a mess. I knew they had me drugged up, I just didn’t know the drugs were the only thing keeping me sane.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”

“I did it so it is my fault, but thanks for saying it wasn’t.” Bucky stared down at his lap. “There’s probably something else we need to talk about, too.”

Steve chewed the inside of his cheek. He’d been putting off this conversation, but it needed to happen sooner rather than later. “Probably, but only if you’re ready.”

“I think so,” said Bucky in a quiet voice. “Hydra had me for years. Most of that time, I was either frozen or on a mission, but there were days…days they would spend ‘refining’ me. Trying new psychotropic drugs. Testing out new technology. Experimentation. Genetic alteration. Surgery. They wanted a prototype of a perfect soldier, one they could replicate.” Bucky lifted his eyes to meet Steve’s. “One they could breed.”

“Buck, I’m so sorry.” Steely resolve was the only thing that kept Steve’s voice from cracking. “Did they...um…?”

“I know what you’re asking and no. Nobody mated with me. Not that some of them didn’t try.” A frightening smile stretched Bucky’s mouth into a grim line. “One of them actually survived.”

Steve gave Bucky a curt nod. The mental picture of the Winter Soldier tearing Hydra soldiers apart, limb-from-limb, may not have been a pretty one but it was damned satisfying.

“Banner told me that I’m in the early stages of heat.” Bucky raked his fingers through his long hair, sweeping it back off of his face. “Ain’t that something?”

“He told me, too,” Steve confessed. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do? There’s always surgery.”

“No surgery.” Bucky was adamant. “I’ve been under the knife more times than any human should have to be. I’ve been permanently altered. I’m not doing it again.”

“What else is there? Drugs? Bruce said eventually your body would get used to them and they’d stop working.” Steve eyed Bucky, concerned. “You’d be right back where you started.”

“But he doesn’t know that for certain,” Bucky countered, swiveling around to face Steve. “I can try them. At least they’ll buy me some time.”

“Time for what?” Steve suddenly didn’t like the way this conversation was headed.

“I dunno. Find a mate or something.” Bucky raised one shoulder in a half shrug. “Isn’t that the best solution? Find someone I don’t hate. Come together a few times a year during heat, then go our separate ways.”

Steve’s stomach twisted into a knot. “So you’d permanently bind yourself to an Alpha just for the sake of convenience. That’s a terrible idea, Buck.”

“Permanent? Says who? People do it all the time. Doesn’t mean I have to be in love with them and it doesn’t have to be permanent. They’ll be free to live their lives. I can live mine.”

“That’s not how it works. The more often you’re with an Alpha the more likely you are to form a physical and psychological bond with them. Not to mention, the bond between Alpha and Omega is very strong. Your body begins to crave the bond, and not just during heat. Some say it’s akin to falling in love. You’re committing your entire self to them for the rest of your life.”

Bucky arched an eyebrow at Steve. “You sure seem to know a lot about this.”

Steve flushed and looked away. “After Bruce told me, I did some research on the internet,” he said. “I just…I don’t want you to make a decision that you might regret.”

Silence stretched out between them, thin and strained until Bucky broke it. “I’ve already asked Banner to get a list of unattached Alphas from the New York Department of Health, Alphas who might be willing get me through this first heat without forming a bond. He said there weren’t very many of them, but it’s something. That’ll give me a little more time to think everything through. He said JARVIS will send something to my I-Pad later today.”

The knot in Steve’s stomach coiled even tighter. “If that’s what you want to do,” he said weakly.

“I think it is, yeah.” 

What could Steve say to that? Beg him to get the surgery? Ask him not to go through heat with a random Alpha off a register list? Beg him to make it through heat with a bottle of lube and a dildo? Offer to do the job himself? The last thought caught him by surprise. He covertly peeked over at Bucky from under his eyelashes. There was no denying Bucky’s attractiveness. Long limbs and big blue eyes and a strong jaw softened by a dimple in his chin. Steve could think of worse ways to spend 48 hours than tangled up in the bedsheets with Bucky. His heart unexpectedly flipped in his chest. It was a crazy thought. Insane. But once he’d conjured it up from one of the more sordid recesses of his brain, he couldn’t think of anything else. It must be the pheromones making him think that way. Had to be.

“You know,” Steve began in an unusually high-pitched tone. He coughed and started again. “You know, I may have another answer.”

“I’m not getting the surgery.” Bucky tipped his chin up defiantly.

“No, I mean-”

“Captain Rogers, Dr. Banner is requesting you meet him in his lab immediately,” interrupted JARVIS.

Steve groaned. “Can’t it wait? We’re in the middle of something.”

“No, sir. He requests that you come right now.”

“Fine. I’m on my way.” Steve climbed to his feet and peered down at Bucky, hands resting lightly on his hips. “Don’t you do anything until I get back, even if you get the list. No calls. No reaching out to a random Alpha. Nothing.”

Bucky slumped back against the sofa and nodded.

~*~

Bruce met Steve at the door to the basement lab, hands clutching a clipboard. “I’ve completed the bloodwork on Sergeant Barnes.” His lips pursed together into a thin white line. “Things are farther along that I originally thought. It’s too late to stop the heat cycle he’s currently in. He’ll have to ride it out.”

Steve’s brows knit together into a frown. “What do you mean by ‘ride it out’? There’s nothing you can do to help him?”

“Not really, no.” Bruce gave Steve a pointed look. “Nothing that _I_ can do.”

Steve blushed hard and deep from the collar of his shirt to the tips of his ears. “I’ve thought about it. About me and Bucky. Doing…you know.”

“And?”

“I was about to bring it up when you asked JARVIS to call me down here.”

“Oops.” Bruce grinned sheepishly. “Probably the best solution, at least for short term.”

“Yeah,” admitted Steve. “We can be together, enough to get him through heat, and then he can make a more long-term decision.” He rubbed at the back of his neck out of nervous habit. 

“Well, better you than an Alpha that he’s never met. He asked me for a list of available Alphas, you know. JARVIS is pulling it together for me.”

“I know. He told me. Hopefully, I can get back downstairs before he actually has the list in his hand.”

“I just had it delivered electronically to the I-Pad in your apartment,” JARVIS interjected.

“You’d better get a move on,” warned Bruce. 

“No kidding.” Steve half-jogged back to the elevator. “Thanks, Bruce,” he called from the hallway.

~*~

When the elevator opened to Steve’s flat, Bucky fumed right in front of him looking angry enough to spit nails. “Steve, what the ever-loving hell?” 

“I-I don’t know?” Blindsided by Bucky’s sudden anger, all Steve could do was sputter.

“JARVIS just sent me a list of names and contact information for available Alphas in Manhattan and look.” Bucky shoved the I-Pad right in front of Steve’s nose and jabbed at the first name on the screen with his finger. “Look right there and tell me what it says.”

Steve squinted at the screen and _Oh My God_. There it was in Times New Roman. Steven Grant Rogers. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t realized his name would be on that list.

“You’re an Alpha? A fucking Alpha? I’ve been sitting two feet away from a fucking Alpha this entire time?” A little vein in Bucky’s forehead popped out and began to pulse. Steve knew that vein. It was usually a precursor to someone getting their lights punched out. He took a precautionary step backward.

“Well…yeah, but-” He was a deer in the headlights and Bucky was a freight train barreling toward him down the tracks with a full head of steam.

“But, what?! You were going to let me go through heat with a stranger? I thought we were best friends!”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “We _are_ best friends, but don’t you think it would be kind of weird for us to…you know…?”

“And it wouldn’t be weird for me to ‘you know’ with a complete stranger?!” Bucky exploded. “Christ, Steve!” He flung the I-Pad onto the sofa and stomped back to the spare bedroom in a blind rage.

Steve stood in the middle of the den feeling shell-shocked. “JARVIS? Did you know I was on that list?” 

“Yes, Captain. I assumed you knew as well,” came the matter-of-fact reply. “You are, after all, an unbound Alpha in Manhattan who would be amenable to Sergeant Barnes’ request.”

Steve scrubbed his hand down the side of his face. “Oh, boy.”

~*~

When an hour passed and Bucky didn’t emerge from the spare bedroom, Steve wandered back there and timidly knocked on the door.

Deafening silence greeted him. 

Carefully, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. Bucky sat propped up against the headboard with his knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, staring out the window. 

“Hey. I wanted to apologize,” muttered Steve, hands shoved into his pockets. He shuffled into the room and stood awkwardly by the side of the bed. “I was a complete ass and I should have said something sooner, but it’s…” He took a deep breath and continued. “We’ve been best friends for so long and I don’t want to ruin anything. You’re all I have.”

Bucky turned to look at him, wearing an unreadable expression. “How long? How long have you been Alpha, I mean. Were you born that way or is it a supersoldier thing?”

“Born an Alpha, but you remember how small I was. Never had much of a puberty. It wasn’t until I received the serum that the Alpha traits came out.” Gingerly, he sat on the edge of the bed, hopefully out of reach of Bucky in case he decided to take a swing at him after all.

“So all that time we spend together as kids, all those years, you never once found the right time to tell me.” Hurt flickered in Bucky’s blue eyes.

Steve twisted his hands in his lap. “It was a tiny, insignificant piece of who I was. I was never triggered before the serum and only came in contact with one Omega after it, so I figured it wasn’t a big deal. I’m sorry, Buck. I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

Bucky hugged his knees a little tighter. “So, are you going to help me?” He looked at Steve, guarded.

Steve took a deep breath and forced himself to look Bucky in the eye. “Yeah, I am. It would be safer for you to be with me than with a complete stranger. I’ll do whatever you need for me to do.”

A corner of Bucky’s mouth lifted. “Thanks.”

Uncomfortable silence descended as Steve’s mind raced. What came next? Sex was familiar to him, but heat? That was brand spanking new. He inhaled deeply, and much to his surprise, he smelled nothing. His Alpha blockers would wear off at some point and instinct would take over, he supposed. Still, the finer points of negotiating a first heat with someone were a bit foggy. And then there was the other matter. 

Steve’s eyes drifted downward, noting the bulge in Bucky’s sweatpants. “I have to ask. Are you sure you can be impregnated?”

A dark look flashed across Bucky’s face, followed by one of resignation. “I’m not entirely sure, no. Didn’t get to ask a lot of questions. Hell, maybe I’ll turn out to lay eggs or something, but I do know that I’m Omega and that they did this to me for a reason.”

Steve swallowed thickly. It didn’t matter to him one bit what was between Bucky’s legs. Bucky was still Bucky and sex was still sex and oh, God, how was he going to do this with his best friend?

“Right.” Steve rose from the bed and stood, completely out of sorts. “Should I order some food?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Bucky replied. “Anything to keep you from cooking.”

~*~

Pizza arrived right on schedule. Bucky’s heat did not. They spent an awkward evening parked on the sofa watching bad action movies on Netflix and avoiding any mention of the obvious. Bucky tucked his knee up under hip and accidentally brushed Steve’s thigh in the process. Steve nearly jumped out of his skin.

“See? This is exactly what I wanted to avoid,” griped Steve. He rubbed unconsciously at the spot on his thigh that Bucky had just touched. “Weirdness.”

Bucky just shrugged. “You’re the one being weird, and let’s face it, you were already weird way before tonight.”

“Can you blame me? I’ve never done this before. What if I accidentally hurt you or something? I am Captain America.”

“Please,” snorted Bucky. “I’ve taken down entire squadrons with my bare hands. I think I can handle one rutting Alpha even if he is Captain America.” He brushed Steve’s thigh with his knee on purpose this time and grinned when Steve practically came unglued. “But if you’re this nervous about a little touch, I’m wondering if you can actually do the deed.”

Steve’s cheeks flushed hotly. “I can do it just fine, thanks, and before you ask, no. I’m not a virgin.”

“I’d be shocked if you were, looking like you do.” Bucky’s eyes roamed over him in a way that made Steve squirm.

“I do wonder about-” Steve looked up at the ceiling until he collected his scattered thoughts. “I remember how things were with you after you slept with a girl. For a while, you’d act friendly, concerned, caring and then you’d just disappear. They’d ask me why you never came around anymore. I never knew what to tell them.” He forced himself to look Bucky in the eyes. “I don’t want you to ghost on me. I don’t want to lose you.”

Bucky looked at Steve like he’d sprouted a second head. “ _Completely_ different situation. We’re not dating and you’re not some dame I just met. We’re best friends. No way you’re gonna lose me.”

Steve nodded, suddenly unable to speak.

“Look,” said Bucky, nudging Steve’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “It’s only for a day or two, long enough to get me through heat, and then we never have to do it again. Go right back to being best friends. It’ll be like it never happened.”

“Alright.” Steve’s stomach unexpectedly sank as if he’d swallowed a 15 pound bowling ball. Wasn’t that what he wanted? For everything to go back to the way things had been? Best friends forever, through thick or thin, ’til the end of the line. That’s what his head was screaming, but his heart whispered that it wanted more and his body certainly seemed excited at the prospect. It was probably just the pheromones making him feel so weird.

~*~

If Steve slept an hour that night he wasn’t aware of it. Even if Bucky weren’t in full-blown heat, Steve could still smell the pheromones in the cool night air. Whatever thin threads of the Alpha blocker had stitched him together and held back the beast earlier in the evening had long since burst wide open. Everything he’d been trying to keep in check was spilling out, turning him into a fevered mess.

He wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand and heaved a sigh that sounded an awful lot like a growl to his untrained ears. Alarmed, he clamped his hand over his mouth. _Get it together, Rogers._

And that’s when he heard it.

“Steve?”

That was a whine. A _whine_. An actual whine that wrapped around his neck and squeezed so tightly that he couldn’t breathe. _Sweet Fancy Moses. It was happening._

In a heartbeat, instinct took over and he was on his feet, prowling the hallway until he stood in front of the door to the spare bedroom, hand on the doorknob. “Bucky?”

“Steve…”

Steve burst into the room, greeted by a wall of pheromones so thick it almost knocked him backward. Dense and sweet and heady. He swayed on his feet for a moment before his eyes could focus enough to take in what he was seeing.

If Steve was a mess, Bucky was an utter disaster. His long hair hung in damp tendrils around his flushed face. His T-shirt was a crumpled ball on the edge of the bed. His boxers were soaked and clinging to him like a second skin. He blinked baleful eyes up at Steve. “I think I ruined the sheets.”

“Fuck the sheets,” swore Steve, who rarely swore and never used that particular swear word. But if there was a perfect occasion to break out the mother of all swear words, this was it. He pounced – literally pounced – on Bucky, pinning him to the bed with his strong hands and burying his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck. “You smell amazing.”

Bucky put both hands on Steve’s chest and pushed, shoving him backward. “Condoms. Not another sniff until I see them.”

Steve growled, but even in his disheveled state, Bucky was firm. “Unless you’re ready for 2am feedings and a Captain America diaper bag, go get a damned condom.”

“I thought you weren’t sure if you could even get pregnant?!” Steve’s voice was strained tight with irritation.

“I’m _not_ sure, but I’m also not taking any chances. Why do you think they did this to me? It wasn’t for shits and giggles. It was to breed another supersoldier.”

That ice-cold shot of pregnant reality shocked Steve enough to register in his overheated brain. Condoms. Condoms? Crap! Did he even have any? Why hadn’t he thought of that? He gritted his teeth and forced his addled brain to concentrate. The Secret Santa gift from Natasha! Somewhere among the dildos and buttplugs and CDs of masked German porn, there were condoms! He’d never been more grateful for an embarrassing gift in his life. He hurled himself off the bed. “Wait right there!” 

“Where am I gonna go?” Bucky muttered.

Steve dashed out of the room and dove into the hall closet until he found the box full of goodies. There in at the bottom of the box lay the most wonderful sight Steve had ever seen: an entire package of individually wrapped condoms. “Oh, thank God.”

By the time he got back to the bedroom, Bucky had stripped down completely and sat propped against the headboard, stroking his cock with one hand. “I started without you,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling in the dim light.

Steve’s breath caught in his chest and he stood transfixed for a few strung out moments. He’d never seen Bucky like that before, long legs and chiseled abs and an expanse of skin that shone pale and beautiful in the moonlight that streamed in from the window. The vision went straight to his cock, which twitched eagerly in his pants. A deep guttural growl rumbled up from Steve’s chest and he wanted Bucky like he’d never wanted anyone or anything in his life. It had to be the pheromones.

Once he returned to his senses, he tugged his shirt overhead so quickly that it ripped under one of the armpits, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. His sleep pants dropped to his ankles and he kicked them off, before crawling upward from the foot of the bed, up to where Bucky lay lazily stroking himself.

“As long as you don’t finish without me,” Steve said. He nudged Bucky’s legs apart and slid his fingers along the crease between them, finding the crevice damp and slick and ready. How that was physically possible Steve didn’t know, and frankly didn’t care. All he knew was that he needed to be inside Bucky. Now.

Bucky shivered when Steve ran his fingers over his entrance. “I will finish with or without you if you don’t hurry up, dammit.”

No time for foreplay or preamble or any of the romantic things that lovers might do. This was mating, intense and primal and instinctual. Steve sat back on his haunches, ripped open a condom wrapper and rolled it onto his hard cock.

“Hang onto something,” warned Steve, “because it’s about to get rough.” 

He hitched his arms under Bucky’s legs, yanked him downward to lie flat on the bed and pushed his legs upward.

Bucky yelped in surprise, his blue eyes widening as he clutched at Steve’s shoulders. “Holy shit.”

It was the hint of a whine in Bucky’s tone that nearly made Steve come undone. He positioned himself at Bucky’s slick entrance and pushed forward with one long, smooth thrust. “Bucky,” he breathed as the tight heat enveloped him. His eyes locked onto Bucky’s flushed face and he held his breath, savoring the way Bucky’s body felt.

“Shit, Steve. Quit staring at me and start fucking moving.” Bucky’s ankles wrapped around Steve’s hips and dug into his ass as he tried to wiggle himself a little bit of blessed friction.

With that demand, Steve’s eyes narrowed, flashing brightly. “Will you stop being so demanding? I’m the Alpha, and I’m going to make you remember that.” He pulled back and thrust upward, hard and sure and savagely. Bucky groaned underneath him, so he braced his hands on either side of his shoulders and set a blistering pace.

“Oh, God,” moaned Bucky, fingers digging into Steve’s arm so hard that there would likely be bruises. “That’s…yeahh….ngh…”

Steve had moved beyond words and rational thought, over into incoherent grunts and growls and moans. If the world blew up around him or Stark somehow found a way to open a portal to hell next to the bed, Steve wouldn’t have cared. All that mattered was Bucky’s pliant body that he had offered up to him so willing and eager, and the delicious glide of friction between them.

“SteveSteveSteveSteve,” tumbled from Bucky’s parted lips. Unexpectedly, Bucky’s body trembled and spasmed around Steve’s cock and burst forth with warm release that painted the space between them.

That sent Steve over the edge. He surged forward with one last brutal thrust, anchoring himself deep inside Bucky’s body and coming with a deep, low rumble of a growl. For a moment, everything went black, his focus turned inward on his own release of pleasure and pheromones, but when he came back down from the blinding high of release, he glanced down at Bucky. 

Oh, boy. 

Bucky lay on the bed, gloriously and wantonly wrecked, boneless and panting and spent…and unspeakably beautiful. Blue eyes blinked up at Steve, warm and sweet. Steve’s heart rolled over in his chest.

“Hey,” said Bucky, reaching up to place a cool hand on Steve’s cheek. “You were amazing. Incredible.”

Steve felt himself grin like a teenager on a first date. “You’re pretty good, too.”

Bucky gave Steve’s cheek a little pat. “Yeah, I know. Let’s get cleaned up and ready for round two.”

At that comment, Steve’s eyebrows arched upward. He’d just rutted Bucky into the mattresses and he was ready to go again?

“Not this instant, because you need a minute.” Bucky gestured down to Steve’s flaccid cock, which had slipped out of him. “But maybe by the time we’ve showered off, you’ll be good to go. Maybe.”

Hearing Bucky tease him with that look in his eyes and that hint of a smirk on his face made the Alpha in Steve sit up and bare its teeth.

“I’m the one who calls the shots,” he said, leaning down and murmuring against Bucky’s ear. “And after I take you on my bed, I’m going to have you on the sofa, and the kitchen counter and the shower and maybe even against the front door. I haven’t decided yet.”

He felt the tremble that ran through Bucky’s body at his audacious declaration, and he smiled to himself. 

~*~

The second time wasn’t nearly as frantic or crazed. Steve took his time with Bucky, poring over his body with ardent dedication. A kiss to the cusp of an ear, a nuzzle to a sharp collar bone, a long sensual exploration of solid pecs and peaked nipples, a dip of a tongue inside a shallow navel, a nosing through dark curls at the crook of a leg. By the time Steve’s lips reached the head of Bucky’s cock, Bucky was nearly delirious with need, hands fisting in the sheets, toes curling and uncurling. 

Everything about it was slow, sensual, focused on pleasure rather than pure primal rutting. It was how lovemaking should be, full of intention and emotion and care, the pace leisurely and unhurried. It wasn’t until Steve dropped down on his elbows to kiss Bucky’s parted lips that he realized what he had been doing; treating Bucky like a true lover. They’d never kissed before, not even back in the day, even though Steve might have thought about how Bucky’s plush lips would taste. Once or twice. Three times, tops. The kiss pulled Steve up short until he gave himself a mental shake. It was only the pheromones, not actual feelings.

Bucky, though, clearly didn’t mind the kiss, because he locked his arms around Steve’s neck and kissed him back, tongue sweeping through Steve’s mouth, warm and silky and languid. The kiss melted through Steve and he gave into it, lost himself to it until he couldn’t tell where he ended and Bucky began.

~*~

The third time was against the washing machine. Bucky had bent over to load the sheets and Steve couldn’t help himself, and after a mad dash back to the box of condoms, they both discovered the joys of the spin cycle.

The fourth time was a bit of a blur, involving leftover pizza and too much beer and a broken kitchen chair.

By the fifth time, Steve had scattered condoms all over the flat, because running for the box was a huge pain in the ass.

~*~

Thirty-six hours later, Steve lay sprawled on the sofa, Bucky draped over him like a blanket, snoring softly into his ear. The heat seemed to be over at last, which was a relief since he was completely exhausted and the box of condoms was nearly empty.

“Mmmph,” snorted Bucky against Steve’s neck. “Where are we?”

“Sofa. I think.” Steve lifted his head and recognized the odd piece of abstract art that Pepper had placed on the far wall. “Yeah, sofa.”

“Right.” Bucky pressed a kiss to the side of Steve’s neck. “Ready for round twelve? Or is it eleven?”

“Twelve, but I may have lost count.” Steve ran his hand up and down Bucky’s back and sniffed the air curiously. Nothing. Heat was over, at least for him. “Are you still feeling…you know?”

“What? Heat-ish? No. I’ve been out of heat since late yesterday.”

Steve felt his cheeks color, and he turned his head to look Bucky in the eyes. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I dunno. Because I was having fun and it felt good and you’re really good at sex?” Bucky grinned and shifted on Steve’s lap. 

Steve searched Bucky’s eyes, trying to figure out what exactly Bucky meant. “So the last few times were…?”

“Because I wanted to and you wanted to and let’s face it, we’re fucking hot together.” A little smirk played on Bucky’s lips. “Can’t blame the last five times on the pheromones, Stevie.”

“I-I wasn’t blaming it on pheromones,” Steve began before Bucky cut him off with a finger over his lips.

“Yeah, you were, but that’s fine. When you kissed me, I knew how you felt. I feel it, too.” He cupped Steve’s face and smiled down at him. “It’s always been you for me and me for you. It’s just official now. Or it can be. If you want it to be.”

Steve blinked. “Is that what you want? To be with me?”

“It is,” Bucky nodded. “I haven’t had a lot of control over my life, especially not lately, but my body is mine again, and I can do with it what I choose, and I choose you, if you’ll have me.”

A flood of emotion washed over Steve, causing his heart to thump wildly in his chest and his pulse to race in his ears. “Yes,” he blurted out. “I’m so head-over-heels for you, Buck. I’m stupid for you.”

“You’ve always been stupid,” Bucky laughed moving to straddle Steve’s lap. “Good thing I love stupid.”

“Jerk.” Steve grinned so hard his face hurt.

“Punk.” Bucky’s eyes shone with pure joy.

It absolutely wasn’t the pheromones.

~*~

The End


End file.
